


Wounded Hearts

by hope27



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Episode 2x20, F/M, Post-episode fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-24
Packaged: 2018-01-20 15:10:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1514945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hope27/pseuds/hope27
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post episode fic for 2x20.  MAJOR SPOILERS.</p><p>Felicity and Diggle find Oliver and Thea after the ending scene in the episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wounded Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> The episode gave me intense feelings, and I had to write. This all came out in less than an hour so please forgive an errors. Originally posted to tumblr. I know some people prefer this form to tumblr.
> 
> I think we all need a group hug.
> 
> As always, please let me know what you thought! I love to read your comments! Thanks so much for all your support! :)

They find him on the side of the road, hands tied behind his back, face in the dirt. His mother is cold, bleeding out next to him with Thea sobbing on top of her.

Felicity lets out a choked cry, sinking to her knees as Diggle reacts, moving to Moira’s side and taking her pulse before lowering his head and laying a hand on an inconsolable Thea’s shoulder.

Felicity crawls to Oliver’s side and runs her hands over his face until she sees him blink. He gasps - a bone shuddering sound coming from his lungs as an inhuman roar escapes.

Tears stream down her face as she cups his cheeks, wiping away the wetness as more pours down.

He turns into her hands, seeking her out. Her knees feel sticky and warm and she has to swallow the bile when she realizes it’s Moira’s blood that now coats her dress.

Diggle quickly reaches over and cuts the ropes from around Oliver’s body and his arms fall forward, limp. He doesn’t try to push himself up, he doesn’t try to move.

Her hands move in soft patterns over his cheeks, sliding her fingers through his stubble and up his jaw as she guides his head into her lap, his tears soaking into the sheath material of her dress.

When his body shakes and shudders, she pulls him closer, her hands on his shoulders and the nape of his neck, wishing she could take his pain, knowing this could be the thing that breaks him completely.

Thea’s cries echo around them, the trees their only observers and Felicity bows her head, glasses dripping with her own tears as she hugs Oliver to her.

He presses his face against her legs, and then his hands are on her hips, holding her tightly as if she is his only lifeline.

His voice is soft and broken, but he’s mumbling something into her lap, over and over. “My fault. It’s my fault. It should have been me. It should have been me….”

A gasping sob works it’s way up her throat and she’s shaking her head until she can get the words from her mouth.

“No,” she breaths into his ear through her tears. “No. It’s not. It’s not your fault.”

Her voice quiets him but his body continues to tremble and then Thea is there, Diggle having pried her off Moira. She wraps herself around her brother and Felicity lifts a hand to run it through the younger Queen’s hair. Diggle comes to kneel behind her, phone in hand as he calls the police. His large hand hand on her shoulder gives her comfort as she tries to console two of the people she’s come to care for so much in the last few years.

Oliver clings to her and his sister, tears flowing, hearts aching, until they hear the sirens in the distance. 

Even then, as she sees the cars pull up and the familiar outline of Quentin Lance come into view, they don’t move. She watches as the older man’s face falls, and he turns away for a moment, hand over his mouth as he takes in one of his oldest friends, the mother of his children’s friends, lifeless on the forest floor, hair strewn with leaves.

When he turns, his gaze is watery and he finds her in the suddenly crowded space. Glancing down at Oliver and Thea wrapped in her arms, he gives her a sympathetic look mixed with thankfulness. She sees how much he cares for both of Moira’s children regardless of their past differences.

With measured steps, he approaches and crouches down beside her. She can barely see him clearly, tears blurring her vision as she clutches the family she’s come to love so much. She knows that feeling - knows what it’s like to lose something so close. She doesn’t want to lose them. 

Lance presses a kiss to her forehead before murmuring that they should get Oliver and Thea out of here.

She nods, a hiccup escaping as she presses her hands to Oliver’s shoulder, shaking softly.

“We need to move, Oliver,” she murmurs into his hair. “They need…” she swallows around the sudden lump in her throat unable to finish the sentence. “We need to move.”

She wonders if he hears her for a moment, until she feels him take a deep breath. It seems to take all the strength he has left to push himself up off the ground as red-rimmed eyes find hers. She stares into his pale, broken gaze and her heart breaks.

Without a word, his hand finds hers and latches on, his grip tight as he puts an arm around Thea to pull her up with them.

Diggle is immediately at their backs, helping steady Oliver and Thea and then he is moving them, through the swarms of officers and to the waiting car. Thea slides in first, followed by Oliver. Felicity pauses at the door wondering if they should have some privacy when Oliver’s hand refuses to let her go, and he looks up at her with a distant gaze, one so helpless and despondent that her heart lurches in her chest as his eyes plead with her to stay.

Without another thought, she slides in beside him, Diggle rounding the car and hoping in the driver’s seat. 

They don’t leave the scene. She knows the police are still processing everything and will have questions, but for a few moments, they have privacy once more.

Thea crumples into her brother’s shoulder, asking why and how this couldn’t be happening.

Oliver slides a hand over his sister’s hair and murmurs words of apology, breaking Felicity’s heart with the sadness and defeat etched into his voice.

She covers their interlaced fingers with her other hand, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the ragged edges of his knuckles.

At some point, Oliver’s head falls to her shoulder and she reaches up her free hand, pressing it against his still damp cheek. 

Swallowing, she vows to do whatever it took to keep this man - this man who had so quickly become ingrained in her life - from letting this fall him. Slade Wilson is not going to win. Love is stronger than hate. She knows this. They have to fight. They will fight. And they will win because they have one thing Slade Wilson doesn’t. 

Love.


End file.
